Martial Emperor of Blue Star, Turned into a Blood Slave Girl by a Vampire Princess

Outside the door, Veronica’s knock remained gentle, unhurried. “Little Mistress, you need to behave now.”

Degrienne said nothing, but she was surprised.
She hadn’t expected someone like this to exist among the bloodkin...
Every vampire she had ever slain had been a cruel, bloodthirsty beast.

But Veronica had maintained her elegance and patience throughout—one might even call her gentle.
“If you still won’t open the door… I suppose I’ll have to let myself in?”
Veronica’s voice held a trace of amusement, like she was coaxing a sulking child.

Degrienne remained silent, determined to stall as long as she could.
Click—
The lock gave a quiet snap. Before she could react, the door was already swinging open, and Veronica stepped inside.

Degrienne didn’t even see what method the maid had used to unlock it. In the very next breath, a pair of cold but firm arms had scooped her right off the bed.
“This is the first time, so there will be no punishment.”
Veronica held her securely, voice soft. “But if it happens again, I’ll have to use the ruler.”

“Let me go! I’m not going with you!”
Degrienne struggled, fingers clinging desperately to the bed sheets.
But her strength—Body Tempering Tier Four—was nothing against Veronica’s Innate Realm Tier Three cultivation. Like a toddler resisting an adult.

The maid lifted her with ease, even taking the time to smooth her wrinkled skirt.
“It’s almost dinner. We still have to finish cleaning and prepare the meal. Be good now.”
Degrienne bit her lip, her face a mix of shame and fury.

Being treated like a misbehaving child felt more humiliating than defeat in battle.
But right now, she didn’t even have the right to resist.
Veronica carried her through the corridor and stopped in front of the Mistress’s bedchamber.
“We’re here.”

She set Degrienne down and handed her a cloth. “Start with the vanity.”
Degrienne accepted the rag with an expression of pure loathing.
Veronica stood beside her. “Wipe the mirror with this. One direction only. No fingerprints.”

Degrienne curled her lip and shuffled over to the vanity, lazily smearing the cloth across it.
Water streaks immediately bloomed across the glass—more of a mess than before.
Veronica sighed softly, stepped over, and took her wrist to demonstrate. “Like this—steady pressure…”

Degrienne let her guide her hand, but the moment Veronica released her, she returned to her half-hearted scrubbing.
She spilled water on purpose while dusting the vases, tossed the pillows to the floor while making the bed, and even “accidentally” kicked the carpet askew.
Veronica watched her silently, red eyes flickering with quiet resignation.

“Little Mistress,” she finally said, “you don’t intend to do your duties properly, do you?”
Degrienne gave a cold snort and tossed the rag to the floor. “So what if I don’t?”
Veronica didn’t get angry. She simply drew the silver disciplinary ruler from under her skirt.

“In that case, by the rules, punishment is necessary.”
Before Degrienne could react, Veronica had bent her over the vanity.
One cold hand pressed against her back, and the other flipped up her skirt with practiced ease.

“Wait! You—!”
Smack!
The ruler landed hard. Degrienne jolted, pain exploding across her skin.

“One, for intentionally dirtying the mirror.”
Smack!
“Two, for disturbing the carpet.”

Her tone was gentle as ever, but the force of the strikes didn’t lessen one bit.
Degrienne bit down hard, unwilling to cry out. But the sharp sting brought tears to her eyes.
“And the last one.” Veronica paused. “For your attitude toward your duties.”

Smack!
This time, the blow was especially fierce. Degrienne couldn’t stop the muffled cry that escaped her lips.
Veronica let go of her, smoothed her skirt, and said softly, “Shall we begin cleaning again, properly this time?”

Degrienne stayed slumped over the vanity, silver hair in disarray, fingers digging into the tabletop.
She took back what she thought before—Veronica was not gentle!
Her backside throbbed with pain, and this woman hit just as hard as that old witch Catherine!

So much for “a gentle big-sister vampire”—lies! All of it!
These bloodsucking monsters didn’t have a single decent one among them!
Smack!

Another blow landed, nearly knocking Degrienne off balance.
“Please don’t make that face, Little Mistress,” Veronica said calmly.
“Mmph!”

Tears welled at the corners of Degrienne’s eyes. She pushed herself upright and shot Veronica a hateful glare.
This humiliation… I’ll return it a hundredfold!
If she ever had the chance, she’d pin this busty head maid down and whip her until her ass burned!

She snatched up the rag again, pride shredded.
Degrienne stared at her miserable reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, the maid uniform clinging to her messily.
There was no trace left of the Martial Emperor.

Smack!
She flung the rag to the floor again, splashing water ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) onto Veronica’s skirt.
“Oh?” Veronica raised a brow at the sudden outburst.

Degrienne folded her arms and lifted her chin proudly.
Her butt still ached, but rebellion surged stronger than pain.
Fine. Hit me again. I’m not giving in!

Veronica studied her in silence for a few seconds, then sighed. “Three.”
Degrienne turned her face away, refusing to even look at her.
“Two.”

“One.”
She didn’t budge. She even exaggerated a yawn.
“In that case,” Veronica said, her voice turning cold, “we’ll try another form of reflection.”

She flicked her wrist. A silver basin filled with water appeared out of thin air.
“Horse stance. Balance the basin on your head. Every spill earns a strike to the palm.”
Degrienne opened her mouth to object—but an invisible force had already locked her legs in position.

The icy basin landed squarely on her head.
“What the hell is this—!”
Splash!

Before she could finish the sentence, water sloshed over the rim and spilled down her silver hair.
Veronica raised the ruler. “Left hand.”
Smack!

“Ah!” Degrienne yelped, pulling her hand back—only to spill more water.
“Right hand.”
Smack!

“Ugh…”
The cycle repeated. Her palms quickly turned red and swollen.
By the eighth strike, tears glistened in her eyes. She stopped moving. No more struggling.

But the pain of the horse stance only grew. Her thighs trembled. Sweat beaded on her brow.
The basin wobbled dangerously atop her head, threatening to tip over at any moment.
I... I can’t keep this up...

Her vision blurred with sweat and tears. She stared into Veronica’s crimson eyes—and saw only merciless resolve.
Twenty minutes passed.
Her knees were buckling, the basin tilting.

She opened her mouth, wanting to beg—but the words caught in her throat.
I’m the Martial Emperor! I can’t beg a maid!
But if she collapsed here, she’d only humiliate herself further...

Veronica seemed to sense her desperation. Her eyes softened just slightly, and she spoke at last:
“If Little Mistress is willing to clean properly now, the punishment will end.”
Degrienne bit her lip, pretending to hesitate, then gave a reluctant nod.

The basin was lifted from her head. She rubbed her sore knees and let out a shaky breath.
She resumed cleaning—slowly, resentfully—but at least without further sabotage.
Veronica stood watch silently, occasionally pointing out missed dust in the corners.

Degrienne kept her head down, cursing inwardly—
Damn this antique castle! Why are there so many things to wipe!?
At last, the final mirror gleamed.

She straightened her back just as the door creaked open.
Isabella appeared soundlessly in the doorway, her gaze sweeping across the room.
“It’s time for dinner.”

She held out her hand to Degrienne. “Come to the kitchen with me.”
Degrienne cast a sidelong glance at Veronica. Seeing the head maid give a faint nod, she scowled and followed Isabella—reluctantly.